


when is a monster not a monster?

by salazarsslytherin



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Brian is a Vampire, Halloween, M/M, Reference To Suicidal Thoughts, Vampires, Violence, freddie is the first human not to run from him in centuries, this is just cliche halloween fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 22:21:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21260573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salazarsslytherin/pseuds/salazarsslytherin
Summary: “Vampires aren’t real,” Freddie tells him, as though he isn’t sitting opposite one.“I’m as real as you are,” Brian says.





	1. when is a monster not a monster?

**Author's Note:**

> So this is just a rough and random vampire!au for Halloween because I love vampires and I love Maycury.
> 
> I really really really wanted to try and finish this whole thing for Halloween but unfortunately I am rubbish at deadlines and did not manage that at all, so instead of rushing the second half I'm going to post it in two parts! I'll get the next bit up as soon as I can!

It's an appropriately dark and stormy night.

Even if Brian hadn't been awake tonight, having just returned from hunting, he's quite sure the hammering on his front door would have awoken him anyway, particularly when it's paired with the impatient ringing of the bell.

Nobody ever comes to his door. Brian prefers it like that; he's detached from the world, an observer only, watching and learning and keeping himself carefully distant. But he's a curious being.

He quickly checks that he's not got any blood on his collar before opening the door.

There's a man stood outside, drenched from the rain, shivering and hopeful, gazing up at Brian.

Brian's hopeless at guessing human ages but this man is young and healthy, his heart skipping a beat as he looks at Brian and takes in the house he's knocked on.

"Hi," he says after a beat. "I'm so sorry, do you have a phone I can use?"

Brian thinks he does, somewhere. He nods once and steps back to allow the man inside, glancing behind him as he steps through to make sure nobody's out there watching. He's not hungry so there's no _need_ to feed on him, but he does look _very_ edible.

Mostly, though, Brian's intrigued. Nobody's knocked at this house in decades and he hasn't had human contact outside of hunting someone in easily that long, perhaps longer. Humans are usually terrified of him, instincts kicking in, brains flooding with chemicals that scream, 'Predator! Run!'. Of course by that time it's too late for them, anyway. But this man isn't frightened of him.

He jumps in alarm when Brian shuts the door and his heart leaps again, but instead of fleeing he grabs Brian's arm.

Even through clothes, Brian can feel the warmth of him.

"Whoa, darling! Don't you have a light?" he laughs nervously, and Brian remembers how appalling human eyesight is.

"Oh," he says. "Of course. I have some candles somewhere."

The man laughs again and the sound of it makes Brian's forever-still heart twitch.

"Candles?" he repeats, amused. "Don't you have a light switch?"

"Ah," Brian remembers. Light switch. He does have one of those installed, and electric lights. Easy to forget when he never uses them.

He looks around to locate it and flips the switch, illuminating the hallway in a weak, dusty light from the chandelier overhead.

The man lets go of Brian's arm and Brian keenly feels the loss of it, wants it back, wants to touch the man all over and feel the heat of him, let it warm his skin the way the sun used to.

He's looking around, his head tipped back to look at the chandelier overheard, his eyes lingering on the oil portraits lining the hallway, awed enough that Brian wonders if he can't see the dust and the cobwebs.

"I'm Freddie, by the—" he begins, before his gaze lands properly on Brian and he falters.

Brian knows what he sees; he looks human, but barely. It's difficult to notice unless you're close, and people rarely are; if they _do_ get this close, they usually don't see anything for much longer.

But Freddie's stood close, close enough to stare, and Brian holds still for him to look as he pleases. He can hear how his heart kicks nervously but he doesn't take that instinctive step back, doesn't try to run.

Freddie just takes him in, the pale skin beneath a faint blush, pale enough to be able to see thin threads of veins spider-webbing beneath his eyelids, hazel eyes but _dark_ around the edges, bottomless somehow. The unnatural stillness of him.

Not a person, but a creature.

Freddie knows the truth; humans always do, even when it's impossible. It's more impossible to deny when it's right there in front of you, ancient instincts that know exactly what this is, even if they have no modern rationale for it.

And then Brian smiles, humourlessly, and Freddie swallows. Those teeth are too sharp to be anything else.

"Are you going to kill me?" Freddie asks after a long, long moment that stretches between them. He still doesn't try to run.

"Not unless you try to kill me," Brian tells him, and finds he means it. He's curious, curious for the first time in so long. Nobody comes up here, nobody stands before him and _talks_. People run, or they die. But here stands Freddie, shivering and defenceless, but not gone yet. And so _warm_.

"I wouldn't know how," Freddie says lightly.

And Brian laughs, quite unexpectedly, and he'd forgotten what that felt like. "Me either." There's one thing, of course, and Brian's thought about it before, about watching one last sunrise, but something always holds him back. Some deeper instinct to _survive_, even though he's already lived so long.

Freddie blinks at that and looks impossibly sad for a moment, but the moment passes quickly.

"You must be cold," Brian says, because even though he feels warm to Brian, he's shivering and dripping all over the floor. "I can make a fire."

Freddie looks startled. "Oh, you don't need to—" he starts, but Brian's already gone and he blinks in surprise to so suddenly find himself alone.

It would be his moment to run, to open that door and try to make it to safety, but something tells him nobody in the world could run that fast. And he's not dead yet. And he _is_ cold, and probably just as likely to catch his death walking back to town as he is in here. Plus, frankly, he'd rather deal with this strange entity who might well just be a drug-fuelled hallucination than risk running into Bill outside looking for him.

So Freddie doesn't leave but wanders through the hallway, looking around with interest. The place is worn, it's old and dusty but there's an innate beauty in it that's impossible to miss; high ceilings and dark wood panelling, plush red carpeting when Freddie steps out of the tiled hallway. Paintings of all kinds hanging everywhere he looks, an eclectic mix of old and modern that doesn't suit the house at all, and yet somehow does.

He finds the strange mix of art's owner through two more rooms, in a parlour of some kind, if parlours still even exist.

"You move fast, darling," Freddie says from the doorway, hovering nervously. "I lost you for a moment."

His host turns from the fire, where small flames are beginning to crackle up paper beneath a fat log that's been placed in the grate.

"Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't think."

"No need to apologise," Freddie says, still hanging back though the draw of the fire is almost great enough to propel him forward.

Brian can see how he hesitates and reaches out a hand, beckoning him closer. "I meant what I said," he says softly. "I won't hurt you." Of course, Freddie has no reason to trust him, but for some reason he has so far.

The trust evidently holds steady because Freddie carefully steps into the room and draws closer, circling around to the fire and dropping down to kneel in front of it, holding his hands out to warm them. Brian wonders how warm they'll feel then, when they're not cold even by human standards, and resolves to find out.

"Do you have a name?" Freddie asks, turning his hands this way and that, rubbing them together while Brian stands and watches him, gazes at the curve of his neck, so carelessly turned to him.

If Brian wanted to kill him he could. It would be so easy. Freddie wouldn't even know. But he doesn't.

He takes a seat, turned toward the fire. He hasn't lit that in all the time he's lived here, but even he can feel the waves of heat from it, pressing around him like sunlight on a day without breeze. Why has he never thought to light that before? To just sit here and warm himself, to enjoy simple _feeling_, instead of living in the accursed cold?

"I do," he says slowly. "It's Brian."

Freddie glances around at him at that, looking in the wrong direction first, expecting Brian to still be stood somewhere behind him because he didn't realise he'd moved. "Brian?" he repeats, his eyebrows jumping. "_Brian_?"

"What's wrong with Brian?" Brian asks, feeling, to his surprise, a little defensive.

"It's just...you're..._darling_, please," Freddie says, turning fully to look at him. "You're a...aren't you?"

Brian smiles thinly. "You can't even say it."

"If I say it I'll think I'm crazy," Freddie says.

"But you know you're not," Brian replies, sitting forward in his chair, leaning on his knees. He can't stop _looking_ at him, wants to take in every inch of him, touch every piece of his skin, taste him where his artery throbs in his neck—not even to bite, but just to _taste_. "Shall I say it for you, then?" Brian asks him. "What you already know is true."

Freddie stares at him. "You'll make me wake up."

"This isn't a dream," Brian counters. "You know I'm a vampire."

It sits oddly between them, heavily, and Freddie waits but he doesn't wake up.

"Vampires aren't real," Freddie tells him, as though he isn't sitting opposite one.

"I'm as real as you are," Brian says. He sits back again when Freddie doesn't flee and folds his hands together. "What's wrong with my name?"

Freddie shuffles backward so his back is as close to the flames as he can safely get. "It doesn't seem like a...you know. Like a _vampire_ name. More like an…" Freddie glances around as though seeking the word he's looking for on the walls. "An accountant."

Brian snorts, surprising himself again. "Maybe I _will_ kill you," he muses to himself, and Freddie surprises _him_ then by laughing loudly, throwing his head back.

Brian's eyes are drawn instantly to his neck but he doesn't move from his spot. He's enraptured, enthralled. This human is sitting here before him, _laughing_, warm and alive. "Aren't you frightened of me?" he asks curiously.

"Terrified," Freddie admits. "But in truth, my dear, my ex-boyfriend scares me more than you." And Bill could very easily be out there somewhere if he followed Freddie this far, which is always possible.

Freddie shivers at the thought and puts his hands behind him to try warming them again.

"A human?" Brian asks, tilting his head.

Freddie nods.

"I could kill him for you, if you like," Brian offers unexpectedly.

Freddie chokes. "No! Please don't," he says quickly, getting to his knees as though Brian's going to do it right now and he has any hope of stopping him. "Stay here with me."

Brian is more than happy to do that. He slides from his spot in the chair and settles next to Freddie, moving slowly so Freddie can see him, and feels a thrill of giddying excitement when Freddie doesn't flinch away from him.

"I haven't spoken to anyone in decades," Brian admits, watching Freddie closely. "You're the first person not to run away from me in longer than that."

He reaches out without thinking about it, he just needs to. Freddie doesn't pull away so Brian takes both of his hands in his own, holding them gently and staring down at them.

"You're so warm."

"You're fucking freezing," Freddie replies, slightly breathless. He _is_ afraid, Brian can smell it on him, but not enough to drive him away.

Brian takes both of their hands and places them nearer the heat of the fire, letting it flow over them both, and lets out an unnecessary sigh of relief. He'd thought his body had forgotten gestures like that. It feels right, though. He _is_ relieved, he can feel himself relaxing.

They don't say anything; they just look at each other. Brian isn't quite sure who is more awed by who.

He can't help but let his hands move once they've warmed up a little, sliding along Freddie's arms and higher when he doesn't shy away, up to his shoulders, squeezing gently, and cupping around the exposed skin of his neck.

Freddie shivers, his eyes wide as he stares him him, but Brian's touch is gentle.

"You're so warm," he says again, wishing Freddie weren't wearing so many clothes so he could find more skin, warm and dry and soft and _alive_. "You're the warmest thing I've felt in centuries."

Freddie swallows hard at that, Brian feels it under his palms, and he reaches up to pull Brian's hands away. He doesn't have to prise them off; Brian lets go without protest.

He prepares himself to be cold again but Freddie doesn't let go of his hands, just holds them with his own, safely away from his neck. So he does have _some_ self-preservation instinct.

"Centuries," Freddie whispers. "When were you born?"

"I've no idea," Brian tells him. "Long before you."

Freddie purses his lips a moment. "What things do you remember?"

Brian thinks. "Man landing on the moon," he says, a touch of excitement creeping into his voice.

Freddie laughs again. "Well _I_ was alive for that!"

"Oh." Brian's terrible at keeping track of the time passing; that could have been fifty years ago for all he knew. "The Fire of London," he says next, pleased when Freddie's mouth falls open.

"You're not serious," Freddie says, staring at him.

"I am. I was in London at the time, I had to flee."

Freddie's slowly shaking his head. "That must have been scary," he says.

Brian considers that. "It was," he replies, realising that it's true as he says it. He _had_ been frightened. "Fortunate it was night time."

"What else?" Freddie asks curiously. He's no great shakes at history but he knows the Great Fire of London was several hundred years ago, so Brian really _is_ centuries old.

"One of the early performances of Hamlet," Brian remembers, trying to think of events that might have meaning to an ordinary human. Not that Freddie is ordinary; anyone else would have ran from him long before now. "Absolutely terrible, none of the actors knew the words. Better now, of course."

Freddie laughs, delighted. "You're having me on!"

"I'm not," Brian insists. "It was a mess. Laeretes was so drunk he vomited on Hamlet during their duel. The Bard himself got up and left in disgust."

Freddie eyes him. "_Now_ you're having me on," he deduces and Brian can't help but laugh.

"I am," he admits, grinning. Freddie barely even blinks when he sees his fangs. "I never met him. But the play _was_ awful. And Laeretes did throw up."

"Do you like watching plays?"

Brian tilts his head slightly, considering. "I do," he says slowly, giving the answer more thought than Freddie would have thought it was due. "I haven't in a long time. But it's nice to see the same show I watched so long ago, as though nothing's really changed at all."

Freddie's silent after that, not really sure what to say. "They're showing Romeo and Juliet in the city," is what he comes out with. He doesn't know why he says it, there aren't any tickets, they sold out months ago.

Brian's eyebrows arch in unveiled surprise. "Perhaps I'll go."

Freddie doesn't burst his bubble by telling him about the tickets; maybe Brian can turn invisible or something and lurk at the back.

"What else?" Freddie presses, wanting to know more. He's never been particularly interested in history, more focused on the here and now, but he sits rapt as Brian tells him little snapshots he remembers, growing more animated as the night goes on.

When he realises Freddie's interested in music and art he tells him about seeing David in Florence the night he was unveiled, about seeing the Mona Lisa when she was first moved to the Louvre, listening to the very first operas during Carnival in Italy.

The fire's started to die in the grate before Brian stops. "The sun will be up soon," he says reluctantly.

Freddie blinks and feels like he's waking up, having been lulled into a comfortable, sleepy daze just listening to Brian speak. He takes back his hands, which Brian's been holding onto this entire time, and rubs his face.

"I'm sorry, darling, I've taken up all your time," Freddie says, getting to his feet.

Brian follows with an inhumanly smooth movement, standing to his full height so Freddie has to tip his head to look at him.

"Please don't apologise," Brian says seriously, reaching out to run a finger down Freddie's cheek. "I have nothing but time." And, usually, no-one to spend it with. "I should be apologising to you. You came here for a telephone."

"Oh, yes," Freddie says as memory dawns on him with a slight sinking feeling. "Do you have one, darling? Only it's a long walk home."

"I do," Brian says, and promptly disappears.

Freddie makes an aborted half-stagger after him, eyes wide. There's a sort of breeze where Brian's disturbed the air but other than that, there's no hint that he'd been there at all, not even footsteps to signal where the hell he went.

Freddie wanders toward the door, cautiously peering around. "Brian?" he stage-whispers. He feels on edge now that Brian's gone; the house is large and a bit creepy when he looks at it alone. He probably ought to be _more_ scared when the vampire is there but Freddie wishes he was back, he hates to be alone. "Darling?" he calls, a bit louder, then lets out a yelp of alarm as Brian is suddenly right _there_ in front of him.

"Oh, fuck! You _scared_ me!" Freddie gasps, clutching his chest.

Brian has the audacity to look amused, the bastard, before he offers Freddie a very, very old telephone. Probably worth thousands to a museum. There's a wire trailing after him that definitely isn't connected to anything.

"Here you go," Brian says brightly.

Freddie stares. "Is this...your telephone?"

"Yes," Brian says, glancing down at it. "That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

Freddie purses his lips. "Does it actually..._make_ calls? It doesn't look very connected."

He steps around Brian and grabs the wire, hauling it in hand-over-hand until he gets to the frayed end of it and holds it up. "This won't work, darling. Do you even pay line rental?"

Brian's confused frown tells Freddie all he needs to know. He holds in a sigh and drops the end of the wire.

"Never mind," Freddie says bracingly. "I don't suppose you have an extra coat I could borrow?" His clothes are still a bit damp and he'd been able to ignore it while sat in front of the fire, enamoured by every word coming out of Brian's mouth, but he's going to be freezing on the long, long walk home otherwise.

Fucking _Bill_, why the hell did he have to show up at the fucking party? They've been broken up for _months_ but Freddie just can't shake him.

"You can't walk back," Brian tells him.

Freddie only gives him a _look_. "Well I need to get home somehow, my dear," he says dryly, though he feels a bit tearful at the thought of that walk. He doesn't have much other choice without a working phone. And he can't complain too much; this evening has been...eye-opening, to say the least. Freddie's still not entirely sure this wasn't all a dream.

Brian considers. "Where do you live?"

"City centre," Freddie says absently, doing up his jacket. "Near the old cinema."

Brian's quiet for a moment, thinking. If he's fast—_really_ fast—he could make it there and back before sunrise. Just. "I'll take you," he says decisively. "Come here."

He opens his arms and Freddie gapes at him.

"Uh...what?"

"Come on, we don't have much time! We'll have to be quick."

"Brian, what—_oh_!" Freddie clings hard as Brian gathers him up as though he weighs nothing more than a t-shirt and arranges him comfortably, putting Freddie's arms around his neck.

"Hold _tight_," Brian advises him and he can feel Freddie's heart start to hammer. He can smell him, too, warm and sweet, and indulges himself for a moment burying his nose in Freddie's neck.

Freddie goes utterly rigid but Brian only breathes in once, deeply, and straightens his head again. "Gorgeous," he says quietly. "You aren't afraid of heights, are you?"

He doesn't give Freddie the chance to respond; before he can say that _yes_, he is _very much_ afraid of heights, Brian's out the door with him, half-running half-flying, so fast Freddie's scream of pure terror is whipped away in the wind.

It's still raining, which is a small relief to Brian because it will delay dawn with the cloud cover, but it's already getting lighter, the sky deep blue rather than black.

Freddie's clutching him tight, his face hidden in Brian's chest, and Brian wishes they had a little more time so he could enjoy the moment. He's felt more human contact tonight than he has for a long time, holding Freddie's soft, warm hands between his own, absently running his fingers over his skin as he talked, but this is something else entirely. This is an entire living body in his arms, not struggling in terror but clinging to him, legs around his waist.

He reaches the old cinema and slows to a halt in the empty street, under an orange streetlamp, but he doesn't put Freddie down. "Where?" he asks, walking along.

Freddie finally brings himself to lift his face and now that they've slowed, Brian can feel him shaking.

"Ugh," he says, shaking his head. "I think I might be sick."

"Please don't," Brian requests. That is one bodily fluid he does _not_ like. "Where is your house?"

"It's just there," Freddie says weakly, wriggling to get down but Brian carries him right to the door, loathe to let go.

He has to, eventually; the sun's going to be up so soon, he'd never usually risk being out this late.

But he lingers for a moment longer, staring at Freddie, and Freddie stares at him.

And Brian does something he'd almost forgotten he had any inclination for. He kisses him.

Freddie lets out a quiet gasp of surprise, his lips warm and soft under Brian's, and Brian pulls back long before he wants to. He really does have to go.

Freddie blinks at him, staring for a moment. "Oh, darling," he sighs. "You're the best dream I've ever had."

Brian snorts softly, and kisses him one last time. "I'm not a dream," he promises.

And then he's gone.


	2. oh, when you love it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *insert [one year later] type meme*
> 
> so i never intended for the second part to take a literal year it's just sort of turned out that way because of who i am as a person. i am so sorry to anyone who was waiting for this, i really am just rubbish with deadlines.
> 
> BUT hopefully if there's anyone around still interested, this spices up your halloween a bit :D
> 
> happy halloween! <3

Exhausted, Freddie sleeps through most of the next day and dreams of cold lips on his and wind in his hair.

He tells Roger and John he hooked up with someone last night to explain why he didn’t come home and says he has a client’s project to work on so he can shut himself away.

He doesn’t know why he feels like he needs to be alone, he usually hates being alone, but he can’t quite figure out what the fuck happened last night.He almost thinks he must have taken something extra strong at the party, but he knows that’s not true.That wasn’t a hallucination.

He just knows, somehow.

It’s a few hours before Freddie realises he’s _waiting_, uselessly trying to pass time by sketching with most of his attention on the window, watching as the sun finally starts to go down.

He gives up on drawing (trying to draw _Brian_, the ethereal beauty of him, that unnatural stillness, but it's impossible to capture on paper) as soon as the sun’s gone, sitting on his bed facing the window instead. 

The minutes tick by.Nobody comes.

Freddie finally drags himself away to make a cup of tea, hoping it will calm his jangled nerves, and when he returns he’s there, hovering outside the window of Freddie’s fifth floor flat.

Freddie nearly drops his cup.

Brian grins at him through the glass and Freddie hurries over to unhook the latch and throw the window open, so relieved he’s nearly tearful.

“Oh, darling!” he says happily.“I was beginning to think I really _had_ made you up.”

“I just had to see you again,” Brian tells him.“I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t!”Truth be told, Freddie had been considering making Roger drive him over to the old house outside town to see if Brian was still there, if he ever even had been at all.

“Will you invite me in?” Brian asks carefully.“I can’t come in unless you do.”

Freddie pauses at that.“That’s true, is it?”He observes Brian for a few moments, trying not to smile.“Can I uninvite you?”

Brian shakes his head, looking serious.

“Come in,” Freddie tells him anyway, as if he was ever going to say anything else.

Brian looks surprised but he wastes no time, ducking in the window and landing silently on the floor, immediately taking Freddie into his arms, holding him close.

“Oh,” Freddie sighs out, pressing close against him. 

“I barely slept today,” Brian murmurs to him, one hand brushing Freddie’s hair back from his face, running his fingers through it, down the back of his neck.He leans in to press his nose against his throat, breathing in.“I could only think of you.”

Freddie swallows, going still.“Are you...hungry?” he asks nervously.

Brian chuckles, his breath ghosting over Freddie’s skin.“Starving,” he says.“But just for this.”

Freddie, against all better instincts, relaxes against him and lets Brian walk him over to his bed.

They lay down together, as close as possible, and Freddie shivers as Brian slides cold hands under his shirt to rest them on his stomach.

“You make me warm,” Brian mutters, mouthing against his neck.“Warmer than I can ever remember being.I just want to hold you forever like this.”

Freddie hums and curls into him.“That’s a long time,” he says softly.

“It is,” Brian agrees, kissing his head.“Too long.”

***

Every night, Brian goes to Freddie’s window and slips inside.He’s drawn to him like a moth to flame, something inside him just _needs_ Freddie.He’s all Brian can think about, every waking moment. 

He even dreams of him.He, who hasn’t dreamt in centuries.He dreams of warm brown eyes and a beautiful laugh and smooth hands that don’t shy from him but reach out and touch.

He hasn’t connected with a human like this since he was turned, even before that.Brian’s always been a loner, becoming a vampire didn’t make him that way, but hundreds and hundreds of years later, he realises why.Because his soul has been waiting for this, for _him_.For Freddie to come along and make him whole, make him _alive_. 

Being with Freddie reminds him of how it feels to be human, how it is to laugh, to play, to kiss.To _enjoy_ things—rain running down his cheeks, the warmth of the fire, a soft bed.Things Brian had long abandoned, thinking them dead to him after so many years.He’d grown bored of his immortal half-life, unable to find joy in anything, left facing an eternity of mind-numbing _nothingness_ that had made him want to die rather than face it for a moment longer.

But now, strolling along a dark city street hand-in-hand with Freddie, looking in the windows of closed stores and promising to buy Freddie anything he wants, or else lying in his bedroom with him and insisting Freddie join him and warm him up while Freddie insists on trying to sketch him, he lives for each new day.He’s excited by the prospect of sundown, eager and waiting to leave his house and find him again, spend every possible second he can get with him.

They manage to watch Romeo and Juliet in the city, Hamlet in the next city over, Don Giovanni and buskers in the streets and everything they can find a late-night showing for at the movie theatre.Freddie drags Brian along to a musical performance featuring actors dressed as cats that Brian simply can’t stand and makes them leave during the interval. 

One night when Freddie’s housemates are both out, they move the television upstairs to Freddie’s room and Brian patiently sits through four awful vampire movies which Freddie interrupts every five minutes to ask, “Is that true?” and, teasingly, “So do you know him?” every time a vampire appears on screen.

Brian can’t even find it in himself to be annoyed with him, though frowning at Freddie is a good way to make him lean over and give Brian a kiss, which Brian has found himself quite addicted to.

At Brian’s house, Freddie discovers the grand piano and cleans it of dust himself, phones a piano tuner during the day when Brian’s asleep in the basement, and he’s sat there gently playing when Brian emerges at nightfall.

Brian can’t help but just watch him, entranced, the way his fingers move over the keys and how he sways gently with what he’s playing.

He takes a seat next to him, their thighs pressed together on the piano stool, and sets his own hands on the keys.It’s been a dozen lifetimes, but he remembers.

They play together, familiar pieces winding together and bleeding into each other, Rachmaninov and Pachelbel and Beethoven, and they weave new music together in between until Brian’s hands are moving so fast no human could keep up and Freddie nearly breaks a shoulder tackling him off the stool.

They lay together on the floor, laughing, and Brian tries not to think about how fragile Freddie really is, how brief human lives are.In a blink, this will all be gone.

***

“Brian, _darling_,” Freddie says one day, peering around at the basement Brian uses to hide out in during the day when the sun’s up.It’s the very early hours of the morning and Brian’s going to have to lock himself away soon, and Freddie’s upset about it.

Brian doesn’t have to _sleep_ the entire time the sun’s up, he’s never usually that tired, but because he has to avoid sunlight he can’t be around in the house.And, after seeing the basement, Freddie refuses to be down there with him.So it’s a horrible waste all around when they could spend those precious extra hours together.

“What?” Brian asks, slightly defensive as he looks around.It’s his basement, it’s fine.It’s _dark_, which is all he really cares about.Well, all he _used_ to care about.

“Well it’s just awful down here,” Freddie says bluntly, toeing at an old sheet that’s been lurking on the ground for probably longer than Freddie’s been alive.“Why don’t you make it a bit nicer?”

Brian shrugs.“No need,” he says.The basement serves its purpose, he doesn’t really care what it looks like.

Freddie huffs.“Don’t you at least want a _bed_ or something down here?” he asks.

Brian looks around again.“Why would I need a bed?”They lie together on Freddie’s bed sometimes, and it’s warm and soft and feels like a comfort Brian had long forgotten, but he’d never considered having one down here.Truth be told, until he’d lain on Freddie’s bed not so long ago, he hadn’t realised just how _hard_ the floor was.

“_Brian_,” Freddie says pointedly.“If you had a bed down here, I might get in it with you.”

Things move fairly quickly after that.

Freddie’s a dab hand with a project, though he’s less handy with a duster.Thankfully Brian can move very quickly and between them they get the place dusted and vacuumed (Brian hadn’t owned one of these, Freddie had had to take him to a shop called Argos and tell him what to buy—the shops are open late these days, even past dark!) in record time.Even just that makes it a much more pleasant place to be, Brian’s amazed.

They have to makeshift a sun-proof room upstairs for several days while Freddie arranges for an electrician to come in and they waste hours looking at paint swatches before Brian decides on a colour.Freddie paints, surprisingly efficient with it, and they take advantage of how early it gets dark as winter closes in, wandering around furniture shops until they’re kicked out.Brian hasn’t been _shopping_ in...he has no idea.He’s never been in shops like these ever.Everything’s so different to how he remembers.

They (mostly Freddie) pick a bed and tables to match, a dresser, a wardrobe, new light fittings and a ridiculous number of lamps, thick duvets and the nicest mattress Freddie flops on in no less than eight different stores.

It turns out there’s a lot that this modern world has to offer, but Brian would never have discovered any of it if not for Freddie.

There’s still no sun, effectively blocked by two doors and a staircase, but the basement becomes a miniature paradise, cosy and perfect, flooded with warm light almost as though the sun _can_ reach, with a giant curtained bed where Freddie curls into Brian’s chest and stays with him for _hours_. 

It shouldn’t really come as a surprise when Freddie asks.

“Are you _ever_ going to have your wicked way with me?”

Brian blinks at the question, taking a moment to absorb it and feel his heart skip a phantom beat. 

“My…”

Freddie turns to look at him, pouting a bit, before his expression suddenly clouds.“Oh, fuck!_Can_ you even?”

Brian frowns.“Can I what?”

“You know…”Freddie makes a face at him, sitting up.“Oh no, I’m sorry darling.I don’t know how all of this works, if you can’t—”

“I can—”Brian tugs him back down, smiling wryly.“I can have sex, if that’s what you’re asking me.”

Freddie blushes, despite being the one to bring it up.“Well, yes.It was.If you _can_ then why...unless you don’t want to?”

Brian pauses for a second, long fingers skating along Freddie’s arm.“_I_ want to,” he says eventually, “I’m not sure that _you_ will.”He’d never actually considered that Freddie would, that that would be a possibility.Brian can’t even remember the last time he did that with a human; it all seemed rather pointless, until recently.

He can imagine it, though.Vividly.With senses so newly awoken by Freddie, by the softness of his skin and the _heat_ of him, like drinking in a sun...Brian wants it very much, all of a sudden. 

He shivers. 

“I do,” Freddie breathes, turning into him.“Is it...the same?As with a normal person?”

“I don’t know,” Brian admits.“I can’t remember.”

“But you’ve...got…”Freddie doesn't say it aloud but his hand wanders curiously to Brian’s crotch.

“Yes,” Brian huffs, amuses, “I have much the same equipment as you.”

“And it...works?”

“_Yes_, it works,” Brian tells him, mock-offended as he snatches Freddie’s hand away from his crotch and tangles their fingers instead, stealing his warmth. 

“How?”

Brian shrugs.“How does any part of me work?” he wonders aloud.“I’ve never managed to find answers to that.”

Freddie squeezes his hand and leans into him suddenly, capturing his mouth in a searing kiss.“Well, I’m glad it does,” he says simply.

And Brian, for the first time in centuries, is glad it does, too. 

He doesn’t know if Freddie meant _right now_ but now the thought has been planted in his brain it’s taken over him, pouring through him from head to toe and pooling in his belly, in the cock he hasn’t paid attention to in a long time which immediately wants remuneration for decades of neglect, right now, without delay.With _Freddie_.

Freddie bites his lip, eyes wide, when Brian presses against him.

“Now?” Freddie breathes.

“Right now,” Brian whispers back, running his hand beneath Freddie’s t-shirt.“If you want.If you’re ready.If you’re sure.”

Freddie lets out a shaky breath and nods eagerly.“Yeah, _yes_, let’s do it.”He’s unsteady and flushed and Brian can’t help but run his mouth over the heat of his cheeks, scorching against his lips.They’ve kissed before and lain close together but this is something so different, something full of heat and promise, something that’s _going somewhere_.

Freddie groans when Brian slides a hand up the inside of his thigh, suddenly closing them so his hand is trapped in place and Brian pulls back to arch an eyebrow at him.

“Lube,” Freddie gasps out. 

Brian can hear his heart hammering away and smirks, pleased.“Oil?”

Freddie makes a face.“There should be some proper stuff in my jacket, darling,” he says, moving as if to disentangle himself from Brian but before he can so much as sit up, Brian’s gone.

And before he can swing his legs off the bed, Brian’s back again, triumphant and looking a bit flushed himself, which Freddie’s never seen on his pale face before.

“This?” Brian asks, holding out the little bottle and diving back on top of Freddie, melding his body against him and kissing him again, desperate and intense.

Freddie already feels like he’s drowning in it, every inch of him alight with sensation, burning up inside while Brian’s hands leave him shivering as he brushes cold fingertips over his skin, pushing his shirt up and over his head before trailing kisses down his chest once it’s exposed. 

“Ooh, fuck, darling,” Freddie whispers.Brian’s always cold, of course, but it’s particularly noticeable right now.Especially when Brian undresses as well, the buttons on his shirt littering the mattress beneath Freddie when he’s too impatient to open them and simply rips it instead, tossing it aside.

Freddie gasps when he presses down against him, going rigid for a few seconds until the initial shock of the cool skin dissipates.

Brian knows he should probably leave them both clothed so Freddie can retain his own body heat but...he _wants_ that heat, he wants every inch of Freddie’s burning skin pressed against his, warming his own, and he’s determined to have it.

“You’re so warm,” he murmurs against Freddie’s neck, swallowing thickly as the scent of Freddie fills his senses, making him dizzy, and he presses his tongue into the artery throbbing beneath the delicate skin of Freddie’s jaw.

Freddie moans and tips his head back and Brian almost wishes he was a worse creature so he might bite down on that juncture and finally _taste_ but the urge is easy to ignore; he loves Freddie.He could be starving, on the brink of his own painful death, and he would never harm him.He’d see the sun before he let that happen.

He teases himself with it, though, breathing it in and letting his tongue roam, losing himself in the taste of Freddie’s skin and sweat, and sound of his frantic breaths, the vibrato of his heartbeat beneath Brian’s palm.He’s such a perfect thing of soul and bone, riddled through with life and sunlight.Brian wants him, wants every piece of him, wants to possess and worship him in equal measure. 

He almost doesn’t know what to do with himself; desires he’s kept buried for so long have all risen to the surface, suddenly, and robbed him of rationale, of logic, of anything but the purest and most human instinct.He hadn’t realised he had that much humanity left in him.

He makes quick work of getting Freddie’s jeans off and slicking up his fingers, pushing them into the fierce heat inside him, and Freddie cries out at the suddenness, squeezing around him.

Brian’s drunk on it, impatient with it, and it’s only Freddie’s softly gasped, “_Slower_!” that gives Brian enough control to gentle himself. 

“Sorry,” he whispers hoarsely, going still and making himself take a few deep breaths.He still breathes out of habit but he rarely breathes like this; big, indulgent breaths that fill his lungs until they ache, breathing in and in and _in_ like the air’s something he can drink.

“Okay?” Freddie checks, watching him, loose and pliant and so trusting under Brian, so very warm and alive and perfect.

“Okay,” Brian assures him, lowering himself down enough to kiss him again.“You’re safe with me, I promise.”He means it with every fibre of his being, with every second his soul has been alive.

Freddie’s smile is such a beautiful thing.“I know.”

When Brian finally sinks into him, his cock aching like it never has before, he feels like he’s been dropped into a bath of molten rock, delicious heat burning through him, flames catching at his core and lighting him up.It’s better than anything he’s ever felt, even when he’s done this before, because it’s _Freddie_, it is _his_ human, and Brian’s soul feels healed and raw when he’s with him. 

Freddie moans so sweetly under him, his thighs warm and strong around Brian’s hips, hands searing as he clings to Brian’s shoulders.Sweat glitters on his skin and Brian chases it greedily with his tongue, giving himself over to impulse and letting his body delight in its senses as Freddie consumes every one of them.

He rocks into Freddie without real rhythm, just loses himself in it, letting the tips of his fangs graze along Freddie’s neck just to drive himself further into madness.He wants so badly to _bite_, to close his jaw and feel the snap of it, that sweet resistance against his teeth, the hot wash into his mouth, but he won’t.It’s there at the edge of his consciousness but it’s the one desire Brian has firmly in check.

He pulls back—better not to tempt the devil too mercilessly—and licks all down the column of Freddie’s throat instead, sucking a bruise into the hollow of it while Freddie just breathes and groans and says ‘_Oh, darling_’ as Brian sinks into him over and over, until he doesn’t feel cold any more.

He has an eternity to live and he feels like he could spend it, every moment, like this; surrounded by Freddie, pressed so deep inside him it’s like they could become one thing.Like some of what makes Freddie human could be borrowed by Brian, and maybe some of what makes Brian unbreakable could be leant to Freddie.Just so they could have this, always.

He doesn’t want it to end, wants to cling to it forever, but it’s been so long Brian had forgotten what it all felt like.He doesn’t recognise the feeling washing through him, building up inside him and burning as it goes, rising like a wave.All he knows is _Freddie_ and this feeling, and the way he needs to move to keep hold of it, fingers digging into the soft flesh of Freddie’s thighs, his own flexing and taut as he seeks _more_, deeper, better, trembling with the effort of holding himself back so he won’t hurt him, Freddie’s human pelvis only too breakable if Brian doesn’t keep himself in check.

He lets out a cry as he comes, shocked by it.Brian has to snap his jaw closed on empty air and grit his teeth _hard_ to overcome the urge that nearly takes over him in his surprise.He wasn’t prepared for how it would feel, it’s been too long.It’s just the purest bliss, the most perfect crescendo of _feeling_, it’s being _alive_ again and Brian had forgotten, he’d forgotten all of it.

He clutches Freddie close as he pants for air he doesn’t even need, long fingers reaching between them to find Freddie’s cock and stroke him through the final few seconds as he himself still trembles with the aftershocks.

Freddie makes the most _sinful_ sound as he finishes, high and breathy and all caught up in the back of his throat, arching up into Brian’s hand, and the _scent_ of it—

Brian can’t resist, he’s not strong enough for that, and he brings his hand up to his mouth to lick his palm clean, his mind utterly _blank_ of all but the taste as it spills over his tongue._Freddie_.Not his blood but _him_, the closest Brian could ever get, sweet as honey and still warm.

“Brian,” Freddie says after a while, hoarse and exhausted, and Brian registers suddenly the hands on his chest, the slick heat around his softening cock, Freddie’s tired, splayed legs either side of him. 

He comes back down, slowly, into a body that feels different to how it had before.Warmer, fuller, stronger.Still sparking through with aftershocks of pleasure, like he’s tried to capture a lightning storm in his hands and has instead been so thoroughly consumed by it that his skin has become static. 

“Freddie,” he says back, smiling down at him.

Freddie looks thoroughly debauched and it’s a _delectable_ look on him, even when he shifts so Brian’s cock slides out of that addictive heat.

For a moment Brian mourns the loss of contact, having been quite determined to remain like that for the rest of his very long life, but then he drops down beside Freddie, nuzzling into his neck.

Freddie should be far more worried when Brian does that than he is—his heartbeat remains steady, slowing now that they’re done—and Brian can’t tell if that flatters or frightens him. 

“So...is it the same as with a normal person?” Brian asks, parroting Freddie’s words back at him with a smug little grin because he can tell that Freddie’s just completely wiped out, energy sapped, and he’s inordinately proud.Not bad for a vampire who hasn’t had sex in literal _decades_.

“No,” Freddie says succinctly, his eyes drifting closed while a smile plays about his mouth.“Definitely not, my darling._Normal people_ don’t leave me shivering.”

“With desire,” Brian suggests roguishly, tongueing at his neck again because he _just can’t help himself_.

“With _cold_,” Freddie corrects.

Brian gathers him close, pressing them together from shoulder to toe, and reaches down the bed to haul the covers up over them both.“Warm me up, then,” he retorts.In truth he’s warmer right now than he usually is and Freddie isn’t making even the slightest move to pull away so Brian’s not too concerned.

Actually he doesn’t think anything in the world could concern him just then; he’s floating on a cloud somewhere high, high above their bodies, basking in sunlight.

“So,” he murmurs before Freddie can drop off to sleep, which Brian can tell he’s _seconds_ from doing.His hand wanders idly down Freddie’s back.“How long before you can do that again?” 

Freddie doesn’t even open his eyes.“Don’t even think about it,” he says, the sternness somewhat lost under the haze of exhaustion. 

“When you wake up, then?” Brian asks hopefully.

Freddie snorts.“Not a chance.” 

“Tomorrow night,” Brian says decisively.

Freddie cracks his eyes open.“Fucking hell,” he laughs.“I’ve created a monster, haven’t I?”

_No_, Brian doesn’t say._You’ve _un_created one._

***

Freddie spends most nights after that.Brian’s very pleased he bought a bed.In fact, it’s all Freddie can do to get him _out_ of it.

“_Darling_, come _on_,” he pleads, tugging uselessly on Brian’s hands while Brian simply lays there, smirking, because they both know full well he can’t be moved by a mere human if he doesn’t want to be but Freddie’s still stubborn enough to try.

“No, let’s stay in here,” Brian suggests impishly.He’s become rather addicted to having Freddie beneath him now and, in his opinion, any second spent _not_ having sex with him is simply a waste. 

There’s an art show in the city Freddie wants to go to, though, and it’s open late so Brian can actually come with him.Brian does like the sound of it, he enjoys art, but he likes the sound of spending hours and hours in bed more.

“I _will_ go without you,” Freddie threatens, and that’s enough to make Brian move.

“After, then?” he says, kissing Freddie’s neck as he gets up, needing to find some clothes.Nice _new_ clothes, another thing he has to thank Freddie for.Brian had lived in the same few bits for years and years beforehand, only ever occasionally replacing something when it had too much blood on it to go unnoticed any longer, even by the most unobservant of humans.

He doesn’t ever want Freddie to see him in bloodied clothes; Brian keeps that part of himself utterly separate.He hunts when he has to, and never when Freddie’s there.It’s become meaningless to Brian now; he’s been like this for so long he doesn’t remember anything else, it’s simply his nature.He does try and seek out those he feels the world is better off without, as a small token to human conscience, but he doesn’t like the idea of Freddie thinking of him like that.Freddie’s a human, he’s so beautifully human, and that comes with all the delicate morals Brian himself long ago left behind.Brian wants to protect that part of him like it’s a flickering flame in a storm, with only his hands cupped around it to shield it from the wind.Except Brian’s both the storm, and the hands.

“After,” Freddie grins, leaning back into him for a moment, distracted by the cool lips on his neck. 

They’re a bit late to the show but it’s not a very rigid affair and they walk right in like they’re just an ordinary couple, though Brian squints in the bright light. 

He loves doing _normal_ things like this with Freddie; art shows and the movies, late-night shopping trips _just because_ (Freddie is a bit of a fiend for shopping, Brian is quickly learning, and he himself can feel an addition to buying things for Freddie developing), one night a fairground full of bright lights and the sickening smell of human food that Brian can’t stand for more than an hour before he insists they leave.Theatre and opera that lasts so many hours it tests even Brian’s self-control to be around so many humans for so long; slow, meandering walks through the city under street lamps that drown out the stars and wash Freddie with warm light that makes him look unearthly.

“It’s weird to walk around at this time,” Freddie says during one of these, holding tight to Brian’s cool hand since there’s nobody around.“It feels dangerous.”

Brian laughs, giving his hand the gentlest of squeezes.“I’m the most dangerous thing out here, sweetheart,” he assures him.

Freddie grins up at him, not phased in the slightest.“Yes, and I’m ever so frightened, darling.”

Brian bares his teeth at him.“You should be,” he says, tugging Freddie in close to him.“I can be very unreasonable.I might choose never to let you go.”

Freddie sighs and leans into him, closing his eyes.“I’d be okay with that,” he says softly.

***

Brian meets Freddie’s room-mates once, briefly, when dropping Freddie back at his house.It’s earlier than usual but, regrettably, Freddie has to attend a conference of some kind early in the morning so he can’t stay the night with Brian and needs to sleep beforehand in those precious hours they can have together.Brian had met him as soon after sundown as he could but he still feels robbed of their time, even though he knows Freddie has to twist his schedule and has messed up his sleeping pattern for months now to be able to spend time with Brian.

Brian thinks, if he was a better man, he’d tell Freddie to sleep some nights, to see Brian tomorrow and catch up on his rest, but Brian’s not got that in him.He _needs_ Freddie, has to see him every second he can get, especially when their time is already limited. 

“Why don’t you stay for a bit?” Freddie asks from his doorstep, peering hopefully up at Brian.“We’d get a little longer, at least.”

Brian smiles.“I thought you had to sleep?”

“I _do_ have to sleep, I don’t mean stay for _that_,” Freddie says, playfully hitting his chest.“But you could stay until then?”In truth he’s been so long sleeping in Brian’s arms now that he doesn’t know how he’ll go to sleep in an empty bed.

Brian considers, as if there was any doubt.“Of course I’ll stay.”

“It will mean meeting Roger and John,” Freddie warns him, already putting his key in the lock.Part of him expects to turn around and find Brian gone, nothing but empty air in his place, but he’s still there, looking curiously past Freddie when he pushes the door open as if he expects them to be right there waiting. 

“Do they know about me?” Brian whispers, leaning down to speak directly into Freddie’s ear, which makes him shiver.Hmm...maybe he doesn’t have to go _straight_ to sleep.

“They know you exist,” Freddie whispers back, “but they don’t..._know_...about you, if you know what I mean.”

“They don’t know I’m a vampire, you mean?” Brian asks innocently.He can’t help it, with Freddie’s neck right there; he lets his teeth scrape just gently, just so Freddie shivers again, before he pulls back with a smirk.“I won’t smile, then.”

“Best not,” Freddie responds, swallowing hard as he recovers.“Rog?Deaky?” he calls out, following the light through to the living room.

Brian follows him with interest, peering over Freddie’s shoulder to spot two men laid across the worn old sofa while the television plays a movie of some kind in the corner.They both sit bolt upright as Freddie enters, staring openly at Brian.

The blond gets up first.“Well _well_, this _is_ a surprise!” he lets out, grinning at Freddie.“You must be the elusive Brian?We honestly thought Fred had made you up, mate.”

Brian blinks, amused, and snakes a hand onto Freddie’s hip to give him a slight squeeze from behind.He resists the urge to smile.Never before would he have thought he’d be at a point where _that_ was difficult for him, but everything’s so different now.With Freddie._Because_ of Freddie.

“I can assure you I’m entirely real,” Brian tells them smoothly, hiding his mouth in Freddie’s hair just a little bit as his lips curl quite against his will.“But Freddie had a little trouble with that at first, as well.”

The blond snorts.

“I never doubted you for a _second_, Freddie,” the other one assures, with a little smirk and the sort of voice that suggests he _did_, very much, have doubts.

Freddie rolls his eyes at them both.“That funny man is Roger, and the unsubtle one is Deaky—John,” Freddie tells Brian over his shoulder.“You’re probably realising why I didn’t introduce you until now.”

“Afraid he’d like us more than you,” Roger teases, offering his hand.

Brian takes it after a moment’s hesitation; he likes touching Freddie, a lot, but touching other humans is still strange to him unless he’s on the hunt.Which he most decidedly is _not_ right now.

Roger blinks when Brian shakes his hand, eyebrows jumping up in surprise before his eyes linger on him for a few moments.Brian knows he’s taking him in, trying to work his way through the instinctive fear that there’s just no easily discernible reason for—it’s just _there_, and rightly so.

“Bloody hell,” he manages after a moment, quickly letting go.“Cold outside?”

Freddie opens his mouth to say it’s surprisingly mild before he realises why Roger thinks that, all too aware of how cold Brian’s hands usually are—he usually sticks them under Freddie’s bloody shirt to warm them up.

“Freezing,” Freddie agrees, and Brian settles for just giving the other one—John—a polite nod, which he returns while hanging a bit back behind Roger.

They both watch him warily, gazes flicking between Brian and Freddie, until John seems to remember himself.

“Uh, do you—want a drink?” he offers.“We have beers.”

Freddie answers for him.“Oh, no thank you, darlings,” he says quickly.“We’re going to head upstairs, I have to get up early for that conference tomorrow so I need an early night.”

Roger eyes him.“Early night, huh?” he asks suspiciously.

Freddie smiles sweetly.“Mhmm.Night, my loves!”

He turns around to give Brian a gentle shove in the chest to guide him toward the stairs, relieved to get out of sight; he feels oddly nervous with them all in the same room.He doesn’t think ‘My boyfriend is a vampire’ is the sort of thing anyone is ever prepared to explain to their friends.

“Don’t be too bloody loud, for fuck sake!” Roger calls after them.

“Nice meeting you, Brian!” Deaky’s voice rings out after.

Freddie darts upstairs and Brian follows but, even though the other two have dropped their voices, he can still hear them discussing him.

“Do you think there’s something..._weird_ about him?”Roger.

“A little,” John agrees quietly.“I can’t really put my finger on _what_, though.He’s not like Freddie’s usual boyfriends, is he?”

_Boyfriend_.The word is new and a little odd to Brian but it sends a thrill through him all the same.

“His hand was _freezing_,” Roger mutters, just as Brian slips into Freddie’s bedroom and shuts the door behind him, turning his attention away from the conversation downstairs and much more happily onto Freddie.

“Your companions think I’m weird,” Brian tells him without preamble.

Freddie snorts.“You are weird,” he says bluntly, leaning up to kiss Brian.“Nobody else uses the word _companions_.”

“Your friends, then,” Brian corrects.He lets himself indulge in the kiss, steadily walking Freddie backward to his bed.“Why do they think we’ll be loud?” he asks, guiding them both down.

Freddie lies back and huffs, amused.“They think we’ve come up here to have sex.”

Brian smirks, sliding his knee between Freddie’s thighs.“Mmm,” he hums softly, pleased.“I think they’re right.”

And Freddie really, truly did intend on getting an early night, but...well.He’s only human, after all.

***

On the night that changes everything, when Brian first opens his eyes after the sun’s gone down, he can just tell that something is wrong.Freddie’s not in the house. 

Usually Brian wakes up to find Freddie in bed with him, nestled against him, or else he can hear his heartbeat upstairs, or his footsteps as he potters around, or the tinkling of the piano.

But the house is as silent and dead as it had been for all those years before Freddie knocked on the door. 

Freddie had been at work all day today, Brian knows, but he should have been here by now.He’s always here by this time and, while Brian knows there could be an innocent explanation, a deep feeling of utter dread sinks upon him.Something’s wrong.

He flits through the house even though he knows it’s empty, checking each room twice in a whirlwind of panic, trying to fight back the sickly fear that’s clawing up his throat.Brian hasn’t experienced fear in a long, long time and it chokes him now, thicker than blood in his throat, and he can’t swallow it. 

He goes straight to Freddie’s house, made reckless by his own panic; he’s sure two humans walking in the park catch sight of him as he flies, fast enough to make his skin sting, but he doesn’t care.They have no way of rationalising it, no frame of reference that could ever lead them to the truth, and they will come up with their own way of explaining away the dark shape and the cold wind that followed him.

Freddie’s not in his house.Brian can tell as he approaches, so used to the sounds of Freddie now that he could pick him out in a thousand; he’s not behind those walls.Only one person is.

Brian only just remembers to knock, having been about to let himself in through the window, and he stands frozen, waiting for an eternity for the door to open.

It’s John.

He’s been crying.

“Where’s Freddie?” Brian demands.

John just stares at him.

“_Where is he_?” Brian snaps, harsher, and takes a step inside.He crosses the threshold without any resistance so he knows Freddie is alive, at least, but the dread won’t leave him; he knows, somehow he just _knows_, that Freddie’s hurt or in danger.Brian knows it like he knows hunger; a deep, instinctive knot in the very core of him that seizes and surmounts every other sense he has.

“You don’t—”John’s voice is thin and reedy, scratched.“You don’t know?”

“Know _what_?”Brian grabs John’s shoulders and physically shakes him, and only notices then that his hands are trembling.How strange.

John just gapes at him, mouthing wordlessly for a few seconds, and squeezes his eyes shut when more tears well up in them, spilling over down his cheeks. 

“He’s been hurt,” John manages to get out.“Hurt bad.”

And Brian had known that, he _had_, but the bottom still falls out of his world.He’d known all along it would be brief—the barest flicker of time in the otherwise endless stretch of his long life, meaningless then and meaningless after.Humans don’t live forever.Humans don’t live long at all.But they _lived_.If what they’ve had has been seconds then they were meant to get hours, at least.They were at least supposed to have that.And Brian would have met the sun after, once Freddie was gone.

He’d had it all planned out.It would be brief, but it would be meaningful.It was _everything_.Those years with Freddie were supposed to be _everything_. 

They were supposed to get longer than this.

“How?”

“Bill.”

_Bill_.Freddie’s mentioned the name before—not often, but Brian knows who he is.He’d stalked him when Freddie first let the name slip, with a skip in his heartbeat that made Brian’s fingers curl into claws of rage knowing that anyone had ever made Freddie frightened. 

Freddie had asked him, once, not to kill him, and Brian has obliged until now.But no longer.The man is as good as dead.

“He hurt him?” Brian questions, just barely keeping a human-enough edge in his voice not to scare the wits out of John.

Even so, John stares at him and takes a tiny step back.

Brian doesn’t care.

“Where is Freddie?”

“St Stephen’s,” John whispers.“Room 402.Roger’s with him, I couldn’t—”

But Brian’s already gone.

***

He kills Bill first.He has to. 

The inhuman rage building inside him demands to be indulged, to be given into, before it consumes him entirely and Brian can’t _think_ beyond the need to feel that man’s heart stop.He doesn’t know the specifics of what happened.He doesn’t need to know.He knows that this man hurt Freddie, has hurt Freddie before.He knows that Freddie is scared of him. 

And he knows what he looks like.Where he lives.

He’s easy to find; sat at home, just staring blankly at his television when Brian spies him through the window.Even from out here, Brian can smell Freddie’s blood and he feels something inside him twist, his humanity turning its face away from what he’s about to do.

Brian knocks.

The moment Bill answers, Brian’s hand is at his throat, squeezing tight, _tight_.

“Invite me in,” Brian tells him coldly.

“Come in!” Bill croaks, panicked, and Brian steps over the threshold and closes the door behind him.

***

The stench of the hospital stings Brian’s nose, the assault of chemicals and blood and _death_ so strong he nearly stumbles a step as he’s bombarded by it, taken aback even amidst the rush of his adrenaline and fear.

It’s precisely the sort of place a thing like Brian fears to tread, every sense completely overblown by the too-bright, artificial lights that glare overhead; the sound of thousands of humans in varying states of pain, distress, and terror; the stink of cleaning fluids fresh on the floor that squeaks beneath his shoes and the sharp tang of cocktails of drugs as they’re ingested across all seven floors of the building.

Brian pauses a moment, drowning in it, and has to claw his way back to himself by thinking of Freddie._Freddie_.He’s in here somewhere, hurt, and Brian has to find him.He has to see him, needs to cradle Freddie’s hand in his own and reassure himself that he’s going to be okay, that humans aren’t so fragile as he always thinks they are.Especially Freddie.Freddie never once flinched from him, never turned tail and ran from the nightmarish creature he’d stumbled into the path of.He’d opened his heart to it, shared his warmth with it, his laughter, his _love_.

Freddie isn’t like other humans.

Gathering himself, Brian carries on through the hospital, striding right past the welcome desk without a soul trying to stop him.They know not to on the basest level; he looks like them, more or less, but he _isn’t_ one of them.He’s even less like them when his hands are still warm from the man he just killed and there’s still enough rage brewing inside him to decimate a city.

As soon as he steps out of the elevator and into the corridor Freddie’s on, Brian regrets having gone to Bill first.Because he can smell it from the end of the hallway, taste it on the air; the scent of Freddie is second nature to him, now, he’d recognise it anywhere, but this isn’t the Freddie Brian knows.This is a Freddie with a shadow lurking over him, just waiting for the right moment to take him. 

Brian barely sees the corridor passing as he flits along it, throwing open the door to the room and startling Roger, who’s sat by his bed.

“Brian!” he gasps, staggering to his feet.

Brian doesn’t even look at him, his eyes drawn to Freddie on the bed.He’s bandaged and bruised, intricate pipes and tubes connecting him to machines that are too loud inside Brian’s head, echoing through his skull like they’re the crashes of war drums.Each beat of his heart carries him closer and closer to the edge.It’s close.He’s close. 

Brian’s own heart seems to kick a beat, jolted with panic like a shock to the chest.

“Leave us,” he orders, looking Roger dead in the eye, jaw set.

Whatever Roger sees in his face, it’s enough that he doesn’t question the demand.He gives Freddie’s hand a quick squeeze and slips out without a word, giving Brian a wide berth.Brian can hear his heart, too quick, as he hurries away and muffles a sob.

“Freddie,” Brian whispers, stealing closer to the bed and carefully taking Freddie’s hand in his.It’s cold, even to him.“Freddie, my love.Can you hear me?”

He can’t.His eyes are still behind his eyelids, his breaths coming mechanically and rhythmically as a machine takes over the things his body is no longer capable of doing for itself.

He won’t wake up from this.There’s no coming back from this.

“He’s dead,” Brian tells him, leaning down to speak into Freddie’s ear even though he knows he can’t be heard.“Bill’s dead.He won’t ever hurt you again.”

He wants to promise Freddie that nobody will ever hurt him again, but that’s not true. 

Brian had never wanted to do this.This had never been his plan.But...they should have had more _time_.They deserved more time.And Freddie didn’t deserve to die like this; beaten and defeated.Brian’s never done it before, but he knows how it works.He knows he has to try. 

It’s selfish.It’s cruel.Brian has never, in his long life, considered damning anyone else to it.But this is _Freddie_.Eternity feels surmountable as long as he has Freddie.

“Forgive me,” Brian whispers, running his fingers along Freddie’s face, gentle and reverent.“I’m so sorry for this.Forgive me, _please_.”

He leans in close and presses a kiss to Freddie’s forehead, one hand coming up to gently clasp his jaw and turn his head carefully to one side.The carotid throbs beneath his skin and Brian gently rubs his thumb over the heated spot, feeling the pulse beneath.He’s never tasted Freddie before, though he’s dreamt of it and woken with his mouth wet and wanting. 

His dreams had misled him. 

As Brian sinks his teeth through the flesh and the first hot mouthful floods past his lips, he closes his eyes, leaving bruises on Freddie’s jaw as he clutches at him, _hard_.The rush of it is unlike anything else he’s ever tasted, just like everything with Freddie.It’s beyond anything he could ever have dreamt up, beyond sense, beyond reason; it’s _Freddie_, it’s just Freddie, it’s the sweet sunlight of him, so warm, so _hot_, with his dry humour underneath and the quick, sharp ring of his laughter.

It’s salty as his sweat and his seed, earthy with the pure _life_ of him, heady and addictive and Brian feels like he’s come alive as he drinks it in, breathless as he takes more and more and _more_.Takes nearly everything.

The rest of the world fades away to a dull, grey haze as everything narrows down to the two of them, Freddie’s neck upturned to him, his hands slack at his sides as his heart slows, and slows, and Brian holds him close while he dies.

There are alarms sounding somewhere, but Brian ignores them; this will be quick.Nothing else matters.It’s close at hand, now.Freddie’s soul hangs delicately in the balance and Brian squeezes him tightly, wishes he could say, _I’m here, I have you, I’ll keep you safe_, but he has to keep drinking.More and more, drop by drop, until there’s the barest flicker left inside him.

That’s when Brian stops.

He pulls back, gasping for breath, and wipes his mouth with a trembling hand.

Freddie’s starkly pale, his eyelids purple and bruised, and Brian feels truly frightened when he looks down at him.“I’m here, love,” he swears, taking his hand again.“I’m here waiting for you.”

He’s been waiting for him for the better part of a thousand years.

But Freddie can’t hear him.The machine rattles as it struggles for him, drawing out his final few seconds, and then Freddie’s heart stops. 

He flatlines, the monitor screams out one long, loud note that pierces through Brian but he doesn’t—_can’t_—take his eyes off him.Freddie’s still and cold.He’s dead.

And then he opens his eyes.


End file.
